Don’t Pigeonhole the Pastry Chef

David Guas, pastry chef par excellence, may be defined by sugar, butter, and chocolate by day, but at home cooking dinner for his wife (a busy professional who loves food but doesn’t cook it) and their two young boys, he’s all about healthy savory dinners. And while they’re all ‘good eaters,’ he knows, to put it in restaurant lingo, exactly ‘what sells.’

They don’t eat much red meat, and in fact, in this economy, he says he won’t buy the high-end cuts anyway. Turkey, however, is a family favorite, and shows up in everything from Turkey Meatballs (served in David’s homemade marinara over spaghetti) to Turkey Burgers (lots of Worcestershire sauce, garlic salt, and onion powder) to Baked Ziti (in the same marinara softened with heavy cream, layered with no fewer than four cheeses, parboiled pasta, and topped with lightly oiled panko crumbs before baking.)

Turkey tacos are a Sunday night favorite, with everyone joining in to assemble the goods. David sweats a chopped onion then adds the ground turkey with cumin and a touch of chili powder: while one of his boys is starting to emulate Papi (as they call him) by getting into hot sauces – the other “freaks out over too much black pepper” –

Sometimes he’ll roast a chicken heavily seasoned inside and out with a dry rub of herbs and a little lemon zest. A butter massage under the breast skin helps create pockets of moisture (and can’t hurt the flavor, right?) He’ll start it in a 425˚ oven, then after about 20 minutes, lowers the temperature to 350; it’s done in roughly an hour, total.

On the side, the boys are big fans of green beans, which David boils and tosses with olive oil instead of butter. They also love his salad of blanched, chilled green beans tossed with sliced red onion, feta, almonds, and olive oil. Twice-baked potatoes, a childhood favorite of his own, are always a hit. After baking the Idaho potatoes, he mixes the contents with butter, buttermilk or sourcream, green onions, Monterey Jack and sharp cheddar before stuffing it back into the lightly salted jacket halves. “The boys could easily make a meal of those alone,” he’s convinced.

This summer, he’s been taking advantage of all the good local sweet corn, and serving it boiled and cut off the cob mixed with some sweet Vidalia onion, sweated ‘til translucent, and butter. Other nights he’ll make a (slightly) more elaborate corn salad with red onion and cilantro.

No, it’s not all puddings and pastries at the Guas house. In fact, dinner sounds like it might give dessert some stiff competition.

On Top of Spaghetti

With the opening of Domenica, John Besh’s rustic Italian enterprise, now on the horizon, I thought a brief tutorial on its various pastas would be in order. In all shapes and sizes, these tender morsels – each in a flavorful sauce traditionally dictated by the noodle’s characteristics – will make you lean back in your chair sighing “Mama mia!”

Spaghetti, you already know; here at Domenica, it will be offered simply tossed with olive oil, garlic, herbs, and Parmigiano. Linguini – who knew?- means ‘little tongues,” thanks to its flat, narrow shape; try it here with Louisiana shrimp, shaved bottarga, chiles and mint. These two are fine imported Italian pastas; the rest are handmade in house, just as Executive Chef Alon Shaya and key members of his team were taught to make them during their extensive training in Parma.

Anolini, small semi-circular pockets, are stuffed with braised pork and prosciutto, and served with chanterelles, herbs, and Pecorino. Stracci, literally ‘rags,’ are hand-torn herbed noodles served with oxtail ragu and fried chicken livers. The Lasagne Bolognese is a sauce of ground veal, beef, and pork layered with green spinach noodles. Tagliatelle are quarter-inch ribbons of spinach or egg pasta, served at Domenica with a braised rabbit ragu and summer squash. Fazzoletti, another of the many descriptive pasta terms, means ‘little handkerchiefs” -- indeed, these are flat, loosely folded squares of pasta, sometimes filled, sometimes not – tossed with housemade guanciale, heirloom tomatoes, and basil at Domenica, you can’t go wrong.

DamGoodSweet, The Book

David Guas’ first cookbook [Taunton Press, Fall 2009] was jump-started by his intense emotional response to Hurricane Katrina wiping out so much of his hometown – including his parents’ home. “It was then,” he writes in his introduction, “I knew I had to record not only the dessert recipes of the region, but my memories, too.”

The book, to be published in November, was featured in Publisher’s Weekly earlier this summer. Taunton Press spokesperson Pamela Duevel called it “a Taunton house favorite,” which acquiring editor Carolyn Mandarano attributes to Guas’ talent, attitude and commitment. “David’s voice is so passionate. He loves the city.” DamGoodSweet, the write-up continues, is “a combination of a memoir and a cookbook, where the author’s memory of going to Galatoire’s on Bourbon Street with his family every year for Christmas leads into a recipe for Double Chocolate Bread Pudding with Salted Bourbon Caramel Sauce.”

Well, who are we to argue with Publisher’s Weekly?

But enough about rich and heavy Christmas desserts when it’s 100 degrees in the shade these days. In a chapter called, sure enough, “100 Degrees in the Shade,” Damgoodsweet will also provide plenty of truly chill treats to cool you down and sweeten your spirits. How about Watermelon Granita-Topped Sno-Balls? In a brilliant adaptation, Guas concedes that he can’t possibly replicate the distinctly fluffy texture of a New Orleans Sno-Ball, so much softer than its crunchy northern cousin [actually he can: unlike most of us, he owns a big old Hansen Sno-Bliz, the classic mechanized ice-shaving machine] so he offers up a recipe that yields a comparably satisfying dessert, complete with soft vanilla ice cream underneath the light fruity ice. And speaking of ice cream, the ice cream flavors in this chapter range from Cane Syrup to Brandy Milk Punch – a real taste of the south, in each cold, sweet spoonful.

As Good as it Gets

John Besh knows that on every great menu, while many things do change and evolve, there are other items that are, simply put, ‘as good as it gets.’

At Restaurant August, that would be the pumpkin seeds. Since October 2001, when August opened its doors and upped the culinary ante in town, Besh’s signature salad has been his Organic greens with pumpkin seed brittle, Point Reyes blue cheese and pumpkin seed oil vinaigrette. No sense messing with these perfect complements of sweet and salty, smooth and crunchy, all dressing up a pure and simple bed of greens.

Likewise, his foie gras prepared three ways was on the original menu at August – and remains there by popular demand. Two of the three ways it is presented on the plate adapt to the season: these days, his foie gras ‘pastrami’ (cured, smoked, and rolled into a torchon) is served with a pickled local chanterelle salad; and the foie gras blackberry ‘crème caramel’ is dependent on the seasonal berries. But the foie gras in a baumkuchen crust, the delicate liver wrapped in layered sponge cake with aged balsamic and a Champagne gélée, is the constant, having achieved a timeless perfection unaffected by the vagaries of the growing seasons.

The hand-made potato gnocchi tossed with blue crab and Perigold truffle is also a popular favorite from day one, varying only when fresh truffles are not available, and we must resign ourselves (*sigh*) to their dried state. P&J Oysters have always graced the August menu, and as John Besh is a champion of local fishermen and seafood, now more than ever, they always will. He serves them up crispy fried with Louisiana caviar “ranch dressing,” pepper seared, with truffle spoon bread, horseradish crusted.

Some signatures just never go out of style!

Cock"taling" it in New Orleans

Trips back home mean connecting with my family and clients, making it all mesh in a timely fashion. They typically start with visits with my long term, good friends, who happen to be members of the media (and I adore!) and then with family. I “fly” out of my brother’s house in the morning and arrive back late at night.

This particular weekend I was entertaining a “virgin visitor” to New Orleans, Polly Weidmaier, and catching up with famed D.C. chefs, Robert Weidmaier (her husband) and Michel Richard. To be an escort in my own city is something I truly love, being able to give the behind-the-scenes tour of such a soulful place. What makes it special are the local peeps: everyone has a story…a really good story of what New Orleans means to them.

Polly and I popped in to my brother’s to see where I usually lay my head when in town. His is a beautiful, French-style house in Old Metairie. Hugged my niece Aimee, who is now about 2 inches taller than me, and my nephew, Max, who is catching up in height. Assured Aimee I would attend her summer camp play (I did and she will definitely end up on stage—an incredible natural).

Then we were Uptown bound, to where Polly and I were staying—with my friend of over thirty years, Karen Gundlach, to change and hit the city, just us girls. We dined at Coquette, a new restaurant on Magazine and Washington Streets. Adorable place, very good food, but this trip was to become all about the cocktails. I missed ‘Tales of the Cocktail’ the weekend before, so Polly and I planned to make our own version of one of the best events for the city (created by Ann Tuennerman.)

In the spirit of our miniature event, four cocktails were brought to the table. After one sip, we all looked at one another wide-eyed and simultaneously said, WOW! Yes, we knew cocktails originated in New Orleans, and that the town would not let us down, but these were the best I had ever tasted. We had the Belle Fleur, orange-infused vodka and a healthy twist of lemon; and the Blueberry Crush; but the pièce de resistance was the Kahlo that rocked our taste-buds with jalapeño-infused tequila, orange zest, palm sugar and kaffir lime.

The night was not complete until we went to “The Cure!” A new bar in a neighborhood where in the past I would barely stop at a red light. While not exactly the “hood,” it bordered on being a rough area of town, enough to subconsciously check that the doors were locked. It’s great that someone’s investing in a part of the city that has such potential.

We owned the bar that Thursday night. I was hooked! Polly and Karen loved it. We had the undivided attention of a true mixologist. We all became part of the game. We would tell him flavors we liked and he would put a splash here and a pinch there, and a drop, a drop and another drop. Potion bottles lined up along the bar looked fresh out of a scene from Bewitched! His concoction honored my request for something citrusy and tart. It was presented in an elegant little glass, and I, for the first time, understood why famed restaurant writer and critic John Mariani loves a traditional straight-up daiquiri. He always carries the recipe on the back of his business card. There is no going back to any other cocktail. The Cure makes for pure entertainment with all the excitement coming from the magical mixologists!

Plenty more tales to tell about dining with Michel Richard and Robert Weidmaier in New Orleans – stay tuned!

Rachel's Children

So I’m going to take a rare break from the hospitality industry for a moment and tell you about a project that is dear to my heart – mostly because it sprang from my dear friend Rachel Jones, intrepid international journalist and ‘sister of a different mother’ as she calls us.

Vacation was to begin for all of us this past Saturday on August 1, but office needed my attention with so many projects at hand. I assured the family I would be with them on August 5 for Kemp’s birthday. As for Rachel, she is the reason why, when I dropped my ‘boys’ (husband and little ones, Kemp 7 and Spencer 5,) at the airport at 6am Saturday morning, I rushed back to the house, collected the best of the outgrown kids’ clothes and shoes languishing in the basement, then headed up to their rooms to cull all the toys I thought they wouldn’t miss too much. I packed them up in two giant boxes and was at the post office when it opened. $200 later, they were off to Kenya, and the good care of Rachel. Rachel, you see, has been lending a hand to children in Nairobi, and, with her insatiable nose for a story, came upon one that has become her personal mission: about two hours away is an Internally Displaced Persons Camp, a makeshift refuge of dismal poverty. Rachel has taken its PCEA Muniu Primary School under her wing.

She delivers food and supplies as often as she can, supplementing her own generosity with donations from friends and family back home. When she was last in the States, we had a farewell dinner just before she left and she showed me photos that just about broke my heart: little children, about my boys’ age, wearing nothing but tattered shirts. Another wearing just one shoe. I told her then and there that I would be sending regular packages of boys’ clothes and toys – Lord knows we all have so much more than we need, right?

Sadly, it isn’t as simple as it all should be. Rachel reported that when my first box arrived, it took her the better part of a day, ridiculously frustrating lines, forms, and ultimately, bribes, to take possession of her own property. And that’s only after the customs officials rifled through the contents – ostensibly to determine the ‘tax,’ but helping themselves to whatever they fancied. The whole experience, she vents, makes our postal system seem like ‘a day at the spa’ by comparison.

Still, if any of it gets through to ‘Rachel’s children,’ it’s worth it. If any of you reading are moved to replicate the gesture – well, think of it: we could outfit the whole village. Imagine the difference a complete pair of shoes would make to a child who has none – or only one. It made me so proud earlier this summer when Kemp told the babysitter he planned to give his proceeds from the yard sale they were holding ‘to the children Mommy is helping.’ He’s written them a letter, and Rachel is working on establishing a penpal or two for him.

That’s the kind of life lesson that is just as valuable as any box I could send in the other direction.

Back in the Saddle

Yes, you read it right: as Tom Sietsema reported in The Washington Post on Wednesday, David Guas and his would be partners in Bayou Bakery have “parted ways,” and so the hotly anticipated southern bakery/coffee house is on hold – for a moment.

Guas is right back in the saddle, looking for another vintage space in a lively neighborhood to replace the downtown Clarendon venue where he’d been planning to set up shop. All the public support and media attention focused on his southern themed bakery, especially after the disappointing word got out, redoubled his determination to make Bayou Bakery a reality.

Once established, it will be a warm and welcoming place you’ll wonder what you ever did without, where the pages of Guas’ forthcoming cookbook, Damgoodsweet, comes to life for friends and neighbors in the Washington area. With its progressive coffee program, hot pressed French bread sandwiches, creamy sno-balls, southern pies, cakes, puddings, and Guas’ signature hot beignets, Bayou Bakery will be well worth the wait.

So stay tuned: the proof is in the pudding – and the suspense only sweetens it.